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  Was that a shadow? Was someone outside the door? No! Inside the house! I tried to focus on the black shape, but the brightness of the sunlight filtering in made my eyes burn. My brain was sticky and I couldn’t focus. I closed my eyes again, thinking perhaps I had just been seeing things. It was very possible a passing car created that shadow. Yeah, that was probably it.

  But then it passed again.

  It was probably five feet high, maybe five and a half feet, something like that. I sat up in the chair, surprised to see that the shadow was now on the wall beside me. This thing moved unnaturally fast! And it was racing up the wall toward the ceiling.

  What in the world could be making that shadow? I looked around the room for anything that would create a silhouette with that shape but saw nothing. Nothing at all. The shadow continued to move until it was above me.

  Oh, God, it was above me and the shadow was defining itself—this was the figure of a man! Right before my eyes, I saw the shadow take on three-dimensional depth and expand. It was coming alive! I saw two eyes in the depths of the inky blackness, two eyes that flickered slightly, and a mouth that opened into a horrible grin. Two arm-like things reached for me, and before I could jump out of the chair or scream for Naomi, the shadow fell from the ceiling and covered me like a devilish black blanket.

  I screamed as it whispered in both my ears simultaneously, “Sustainer! We’re coming for you!” The shadow blanket tightened around me like a demonic snake, and it felt like it would squeeze me to death. Naomi was sitting up on the couch screaming my name, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t budge. And then it vanished, dissipating like a horrible black fog carried away on a breeze. Naomi continued to scream but didn’t move. She’d obviously seen the thing too. “What was that?” I wanted to ask, but my mouth wasn’t working. It was dry now, like a man who’d been lost in the desert for a week. No, my voice wasn’t working at all.

  I got out of the chair awkwardly and reached for her. She was still screaming when I collapsed on the ground.

  Chapter Ten—Levi

  When I woke up again, I was the one covered with the blue crocheted blanket. I was lying face first on the couch and could hear Naomi’s quiet voice in the kitchen. Was she on the phone? My eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness of the room; I could tell that I had slept for many hours, much more than just two or three. It had to be late in the afternoon.

  Debbie!

  As I rubbed my eyes and got up off the couch, all of the horribleness of last night—and this morning—returned to my memory. Deb was gone; God only knew where. Then I realized Naomi wasn’t alone in the kitchen. She wasn’t on the phone; someone was with her. I stumbled into the room and found another officer, not Loomis, the guy from last night, but another police officer I didn’t recognize. He wasn’t wearing a uniform, but I knew he was a cop. The badge on the table beside him confirmed my suspicion. He was holding Naomi’s hand, but she wasn’t listening to him. And then I knew why he was here. He had bad news.

  “What is it? Is it my sister? You found her, didn’t you? Where is she?”

  The man’s stern expression drew a sob from the pit of my stomach.

  “I’m Detective Reynolds, son. There is someone…we found a young woman that matches your sister’s description. I can’t say for sure that this person is her; we need a family member to identify her. I was just asking your mother if she could come down to the station.”

  Naomi hopped out of the chair so quickly that it scraped the dingy tile floor. She paced around the kitchen weeping. She was never one to handle stressful situations well, so I wasn’t surprised by her response to this devastating turn of events.

  “You say you aren’t sure that it’s Debbie? Then it might not be her,” I said, grasping at any straw of hope I could find. “Naomi, it might not be Deb.”

  “That’s right, but the sooner we can take our Jane Doe off the list, the sooner we can put those resources back to work looking for your sister.”

  That sounded a bit like coercion, but at this point I didn’t care. I would do whatever it took to bring my sister home.

  “I’ll go. I can identify her.”

  Naomi hugged me and said, “I’ll go with you, Levi, but don’t make me go in to see. If it’s her…I can’t see her like that. Tell me you understand.”

  “I do understand. It’s alright.”

  Five minutes later, we were bundled up in our jackets, watching ourselves in the rearview mirror of the detective’s car. I was grateful for the ride since I didn’t think I could drive. I still felt a little groggy, a little off-kilter. The black shadow’s whisper rang in my ear.

  Sustainer! We’re coming for you!

  No way could I tell that to this guy. Naomi clutched my hand tightly as we traveled down the narrow streets of our small town. We arrived all too quickly and as soon as we stepped inside the warm police station, Naomi deposited herself in a plastic chair in the reception area while I followed Detective Reynolds to the morgue.

  Every step I took, my footsteps grew heavier, my hushpuppies slapping on the sticky tile floor. I felt as if the people working there stared at me a bit too intensely as I made the long trek to the viewing area downstairs. Yeah, it looked like they’d already made up their minds. Poor guy. His sister is dead. Their expressions of sympathy added to the surreality of the moment.

  This isn’t Debbie. It can’t be Debbie. No way is this my sister. This is just something I have to do. Like he said, to keep those guys looking for her, I have to do this.

  The detective stood next to me and watched me steel my nerves. I nodded glumly, and he rapped on the glass twice. A worker in a surgical mask pulled the curtain back, and my eyes immediately went to the sheet-covered body before me. The cart was about three feet away from the window. Thankfully, I didn’t see any blood seeping through the sheet. That would be too horrible. No doubt the person was stone-cold dead and had been dead for a while. Couldn’t be Debbie. I’m looking at a dead person, but this isn’t Debbie. I didn’t want to admit that it was the right height for Deb. Stop it, dude. Lots of teenage girls are her height. Lots of grown women are her height, for that matter.

  “Are you ready?”

  Without taking my eyes off of the sheet I answered him, “As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s get this over with.” The detective nodded to the worker as he slowly pulled back the sheet.

  Strawberry blond hair parted down the middle.

  Sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

  A slight scar on her right cheek from a bicycle accident five years ago.

  Freckle on her neck that I often told her looks like a mushroom.

  “Mr. Wallace? Is this your sister? Can you identify this person as Debbie Wallace?”

  With the heaviest sigh I’ve ever expelled, I nodded my head. “It looks like her, but it can’t be, right?” I sounded like a blubbering fool, but the tears came anyway. “Right?” I asked again, unable to look away from Debbie. No, it’s not. It’s just a body. It’s not Debbie. I wanted to hang on to the belief that it wasn’t her for a few more minutes. Just a few.

  “I need you to be sure, son. Whether that’s her or not, your sister needs your help.”

  My hand slapped the glass, and I leaned against it. I couldn’t take my eyes off her face. “It’s her. It’s Debbie, my sister.” And then the curtain closed. “I have to tell my mother. She doesn’t need to come down here.”

  “Let’s go into my office. You two can have some privacy.”

  We trudged back up the stairs, but I didn’t have to tell Naomi anything. I guess the look on my face said it all. She immediately began to cry, and together we sobbed in the Eugene Springs Police Department. Eventually we were hustled into a dusty office where Naomi completely fell apart. I didn’t know what to say to her; I couldn’t even put my thoughts together. I felt nothing but disbelief and growing anger. Deep, furious anger. A few minutes later, a female officer came into the office and offered to take my mother somewhere to help he
r get cleaned up and find a cup of coffee. I didn’t like the idea of being separated from her, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. The door closed behind her, and I was left in the office with the rotund and sweaty Detective Reynolds and the tall, lanky Officer Loomis.

  “I’m very sorry for your loss,” Reynolds began.

  “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you,” Loomis said as he offered me a can of soda.

  I refused it and kept my eyes focused on my hands. What do I do now? Call Dad? I couldn’t even begin to think of what to do next. I had to have answers. “How did it happen? How did Debbie die?”

  Reynolds said, “We’re not sure. The coroner will provide those answers in time. The reason for her death isn’t clear to us.”

  “What does that mean? Was she…hurt bad?”

  Loomis said in a calm voice, “Don’t dwell on those details right now. Think about the girl you knew. Let the process happen, and you’ll get the answers you need. I promise. But we need your help catching this guy.”

  “So it wasn’t an accident. She didn’t die accidentally? Not a chance?”

  Loomis glanced at Reynolds, and it was as if some strange agreement passed between them. Loomis was the one who spoke again. “That would be an accurate statement. It appears as if her cause of death was related to blood loss.”

  I stared at him wondering what he would say next, but he offered no other information.

  “I don’t understand. She bled to death?” I looked from one man to the other, but neither of them said anything. The hair crept up on my neck. Something wasn’t right here.

  “What can you tell us about your sister’s boyfriend, David Myers? Is he a friend of yours?” Detective Reynolds flipped open a folder that he pulled from somewhere, and I saw pictures of my sister and other girls. All of them were clearly dead.

  I turned my face away and tried not to gag. “Would you mind putting that away? What do you want to know? Is this related to the other girl? The one that’s missing?”

  Reynolds gave Loomis an eyebrow lift, but the younger man only shrugged. To me, Reynolds said, “We need you to answer our questions, not the other way around. If you want to help your sister, and I do believe that you do, you need to cooperate with us. Now, what about David Myers? What was their relationship like?”

  I leaned across the table and slapped it with my hands. Careful, Levi. Don’t let loose on the cop. “Relationship? She was seventeen. They didn’t have much of a relationship. They were just high school kids. You know, kid stuff. Boyfriend, girlfriend.”

  “But you didn’t like him, did you?”

  “Did I think he was good enough for Debbie? No, but it wasn’t my decision. What are you getting at? Why aren’t you looking for the guy who did this? What about the Creep?”

  Reynolds ignored my questions and opened the folder back up again and flipped through some pages. At least this time he kept the photographs turned face down. “The officers who came to your house say they found evidence of illegal drug activity on the premises. You know anything about that? Was your sister smoking marijuana with you? What about your mother?”

  “Are you crazy? My sister and mother don’t smoke weed. Deb wasn’t into drugs—she wasn’t into anything except Hello Kitty and Mickey Mouse. She sang in the chorus for God’s sake. If you found anything in the house, it belonged to me. Now find who did this!”

  The phone on Reynolds’ desk rang, and he answered it. After a brief pause and a good hard stare in my direction, he shook his head and made a face. “Really? Damn it. Alright. Where is he? Put him in Room Two. I’ll be there in a minute.” Detective Reynolds wiped his sweaty face on a dingy-looking handkerchief.

  A feeling of dread washed over me, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what that call was about. “I want to see my mother. Where is she?” I rose from the chair, but the detective shook his head.

  “You aren’t going anywhere anytime soon, son. We have another missing person, someone else you know. That seems like too much of a coincidence to me. No, I’m afraid you’ll have to hang out with me.”

  Loomis shook his head and said, “Who? Who is it?”

  And even before he said her name, I knew.

  “Mr. Wallace’s girlfriend.”

  Chapter Eleven—Charles Coleman

  “You think this kid killed his sister? Come on. Give me a break. No way. That kid couldn’t bait a hook, much less kill his sister,” I said as I chewed on a piece of red licorice and stared at the young man on the other side of the glass. He was a good-looking kid with dark blond hair and tanned skin. Couldn’t be much older than twenty.

  “Who let you in here? You know this area is off-limits to the press. Coleman, right?” Loomis towered over me like a guy who was used to trying to throw his weight around to get what he wanted but was never too successful. His baby face reminded me of a cuddly giant and wasn’t intimidating at all. He walked away and headed back into the interrogation room with a can of soda and a stack of paperwork. So they were sweating the kid, huh? He probably wasn’t even under arrest, but they’d never tell him that. I turned to the middle-aged blonde banging away on her typewriter across from me.

  “What about you? Do you think this kid did it?”

  “They don’t pay me to have an opinion. I’m here to type. You heard Loomis; what are you doing in here? You know the press isn’t supposed to be in this part of the squad room. Go back out front and wait for the detective to come give you whatever it is you’re looking for.”

  I slid across the corner of her desk and smiled at her. “Now, now, Donna. Don’t be that way. Why such bitterness?”

  “Get off my desk, Coleman,” she whispered like a freight train and tried to push me off with her hand.

  “You know we weren’t going anywhere, Donna. You’re a career woman, and I’m just a rag hustler—a broken-down journalist. That’s what you called me, right? I don’t have any hard feelings, you know. You were always too good for me. No, I like to think that what we had was just an encounter. Like two ships passing in the night.”

  “We never had anything together,” she snapped back at me as she cast a heavily lined eye around the squad room. Nobody was really paying attention to us, but Donna clearly didn’t want people getting the idea that she knew me. Biblically.

  “What is it you want?” she whispered as she collected a handful of papers and walked toward the filing cabinet in the back corner of the room. “Make it quick.”

  “I want to know what these guys are doing about this bloodsucker.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked in an exasperated tone. “Do you even know?”

  “Yes, I know. And I believe the whole damn city should know. Four girls dead and now another one missing? And you guys think he had something to do with it?” I peeked around the corner and could see the kid shaking his head and slamming his fists on the table. Short-tempered, no doubt, but I wasn’t convinced this Wallace fellow was the guy they were looking for. Assuming it was just one guy, which I didn’t. I had the information they needed, but Reynolds hated me. No doubt he and his storm troopers were working Wallace over pretty good. “This kid doesn’t know he has rights.”

  “I couldn’t say what he knows, and neither can you. Nobody can get close to that case except Reynolds and a few cherry-picked officers. If you want to know anything, I suggest you make up with Loomis and leave me alone.” With that she slammed the filing cabinet with a shove of her hip and cast her eyes on the lanky officer who was now hunched over his cluttered desk on the opposite side of the room.

  “Thanks for nothing, Donna.” I might as well make hay while the sun shines before Reynolds sees me and tosses me out. I strolled across the room and said, “Detective Loomis, right?”

  The young man smiled at my intentional mistake. He was flattered, which was exactly the response I was hoping for. “Not yet. I’m Officer Loomis. And as I said before, I know who you are. How may I help you?”

  “Uh, I think the question is how c
an I help you? I’ve got some information I’d like to share, but I’d like to do it privately. Is there anywhere we could go and talk for a few minutes?”

  He glanced over my shoulder to keep an eye on the interrogation. I could tell he was anxious to get back in there, but if I could get an inroad with this guy, it might be crucial for gaining the information I needed. There was a story here. I’d caught quite a bit of ridicule over the Black Knight murder case, but I wasn’t making this stuff up. Somebody needed to know the truth. Someone who wasn’t a closed-minded asshole like Detective Reynolds. “Please, just two minutes. I know you have a lot going on here, but I do think this information is important to this case.”

  “Alright. Two minutes. This way.” The officer led me into what was little more than a broom closet with a small desk and a wobbly cast-off table. I didn’t wait to be asked; I plopped down behind the desk in one of the chairs and dug in my briefcase quickly.

  I found the file and put it on the desk in front of me. “I don’t need you to confirm or deny what I know. I know girls are missing, but you should know that this is happening in many places and not just here. Not just in Eugene Springs or New Field. This is happening all over the tristate area.”

  Loomis licked his dry lips and shook his head as if he didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. “What’s happening? I’m not too keen on this cloak-and-dagger stuff, Mr. Coleman.”

  “Fine, but I’ve been following cases like this for quite some time and am familiar with this modus operandi. Blood loss. Gash at the neck. The victims suffered tremendously before they died.” Loomis’ friendly expression vanished. Like most cops, he didn’t like for anyone else to have the upper hand or know what he knew. “You said two minutes, so I’m gonna keep going. This is a wider phenomenon than what you’ve been led to believe. Other girls in other places have gone missing, and it’s not going to stop.”

  “Mr. Coleman, you’ve got one minute left.”